


Symbols of Concealment

by devilinthedetails



Series: Free Spirit [11]
Category: PIERCE Tamora - Works, Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Adultery, F/M, Forbidden Passion, forbidden desire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 18:54:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25920181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devilinthedetails/pseuds/devilinthedetails
Summary: Together Lianne and Alan have always found a way to escape the heat.
Relationships: Alan of Pirate's Swoop/Lianne II of Conté, Lianne II of Conte/OC
Series: Free Spirit [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1864777
Kudos: 3





	Symbols of Concealment

Symbols of Concealment 

The August sun was golden as the grain fields that stretched to the horizon and beyond in Maren. Her husband, the Crown Prince of Maren, was away overseeing the early stages of the harvest in a distant part of his lands, and Lianne was left alone to swelter. No matter how much she fanned herself, she never felt cool despite the cut of gowns in Maren dipping so low as to be deemed scandalous in Corus. 

“Maren figs are exquisite.” Lianne bit into a purple fig from a glazed ceramic bowl painted with orange-and-white flowers on a jade green background. She had ordered a lady’s maid to leave her with the fruit bowl before she had invited Alan, who had accompanied her into Maren as her knight-in-shining-armor, into the private sanctum of her chambers. Sweet juice dribbled down her throat and coated her lips that smiled because he had whispered to her once that she was simply seductive when she nibbled on figs. 

“Fig leaves are symbols of concealment, you know,” Alan remarked, his sparkling gaze riveted on her moving lips. 

Symbols of concealment, Lianne mused as she continued to chew her fig. A strange phrase when their adultery couldn’t be hidden from the harsh, blazing light of the August sun that held all faults up for merciless scrutiny. 

“I didn’t know that.” Lianne rolled her eyes as she finished her fig. “I’m not a spymaster’s child. Only a spymaster’s child would know that.” 

Ignoring her dismissive eye roll, he grabbed a date from the fruit bowl and ate it between words. “My tutor told me that when the first humans discovered their nakedness, they clothed themselves in fig leaves to hide their shame, and, ever since, fig leaves have been associated with concealment.” 

Discovered their nakedness. The idea reverberated like a struck bell in Lianne’s mind, making her cheeks flush in the heat. Even as her face flamed, her chin lifted defiantly. “There’s nothing shameful about nakedness.” 

“Isn’t there?” Alan’s fingers stroked a question beneath her raised chin. 

Not answering his too-keen inquiry, she fanned at her face. “By all the gods, if only there was a way to escape this accursed heat.”

“I remember how we’d escape the heat at Pirate’s Swoop when we were young.” Alan’s touch traveled a tantalizing path along her neck to her shoulders, where he nudged her dress down, the brown-and-green flecks in his eyes shining like sunlight in a forest. He desired her. She could see it in his glimmering gaze and feel it in his skin that burned hers. 

“You’ll have to remind me.” Lianne remembered—like his touch, it was seared into her memory and her flesh—but she preferred to make him remind her. In her whimsy, that seemed more romantic to her. 

“We’d find a secluded cove along the shore, take off all our clothes, and bathe in the water.” Alan kissed her forehead, her cheeks, and her lips. She wondered if he tasted salt, sweetness, or both on her skin. 

“Whenever our nursemaids found us, they’d scold us for stripping without shame.” Lianne unbuttoned Alan’s shirt and then started unlacing his breeches. 

“There’s no nursemaids around to scold us now.” Alan guided her out of her apricot dress, which swished to the floor in a puddle. So many years ago when they were children splashing and swimming in the ocean, the stripping had been innocent even if the chiding nursemaids had never been able to understand that. Now the stripping wasn’t innocent. It was burning the blood in Lianne’s veins with forbidden passion and pleasure. 

“We could take off all our clothes and bathe in the water.” Lianne gestured flippantly at the cool tiled tub—spacious enough to accommodate two people—in the corner of the room as if she had just noticed it. As if it hadn’t been her intention to lure Alan into it since she had invited him into her private chambers. As if she could trick him, the son of a spymaster, into believing that.


End file.
